


Little Bit Of Love

by Spectascopes



Series: Little Bit Of Love [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bittybones, Bitty Bones, Cherry BItty - Freeform, Crying, Dark, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lots of Crying, Missing Limbs, Past Abuse, Physical Abuse, Physical Disability, Reader-Insert, Rehabilitation, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-10-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spectascopes/pseuds/Spectascopes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's your job to take in and rehabilitate bitties. You've seen a lot of awful things- cracked skulls, severe anxiety, PTSD, starvation, the worst of the worst. You loved the little guys, and sending them on their way to a new home was the most rewarding feeling in the world.</p><p>He's your first Cherry. If he doesn't crumble to dust by morning, you're going to have your work cut out for you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. This Is The Way You Left Me

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this last night because i was bored. will it go anywhere? will it be good? pssh. who fuckin knows at this point, there'll be another bitty later on, probably, if i actually write this and finish it lmfao 
> 
> (bittybones au belongs to fucken-crybaby on tumblr~~)  
>  ****EDIT 1/26/17**  
>  in light of recent events, i'm no longer comfortable using ammazolie's character brassberry. The brass bitty in this story will be replaced with a cherry. i hope this doesn't compromise the quality of the story.**

 

You’d seen a lot of messed up bitties in your life. You got paid to rehabilitate abused bitties, so naturally you were accustomed to seeing them hurt, both emotionally and physically. Cracked ribs, broken bones, maybe a missing finger, it wasn’t anything new. Half a year ago you’d taken care of a Lil Bro with a severely cracked skull. It had taken time and patience, but with love and care he’d gotten back on his little skeleton feet and now had a wonderful home. He still came to visit you every once in awhile, and his new owner sent you lots of pictures and let him talk to you on the phone.

It was the case for most of your little guys. Before Lil Bro you’d looked after an anxious mess of a Baby Blue who, when he’d first came to you, had at least five panic attacks a week, and refused to sleep anywhere aside from the crook of your neck. Before him, a Sansy with a broken arm and a cracked rib who didn’t trust you for shit. He wouldn’t let you give him food if he didn’t watch you prepare it, and his house had to be locked at night.

It wasn’t easy, but it was the most rewarding job you could ever have. You loved all the bitties that came to you, but the pay was a nice perk. The little skeletons were by no means cheap pets, with the most common varieties costing thousands of dollars and the more “exotic” selling for upwards of ten thousand. So when one of the little skeletons was unwell, they were brought to you. You also offered counselling for people who had bought their bitties and then realized they were completely unprepared to take care of one of the little things. They weren’t simple pets, they were practically little people who needed love and care like anybody else. You loved your job, because it meant a bitty was removed from a bad situation and given a new, better life. The emotional trauma was hardly more than depression or anxiety, and with proper therapy and medicine you could always get the little things back to health.

When you were brought your first Cherry, though, you weren’t so sure.

He was in a cat crate, and the people who dropped him off pulled you aside to talk to you.

Max, who was a police officer who usually handled cases of bitty abuse, let out a long and sad sigh once you were out of earshot of the bitty.

“He’s bad. He’s real bad,” the man said. “We got the guy in prison, but…”

“What’s wrong with him?” you asked. “Did you guys get a chance to talk to him?”

“He won’t talk. We tried. He’s in rough shape, we… we don’t know if he’ll make it. The sick bastard really fucked him up,” Max said before he gritted his teeth.

Max left after he explained the basics. He only dropped off the worst bitties- the ones who weren’t well enough to go anywhere else first. If this little guy had been brought straight to you, that meant they hadn’t even tried to find him a home.

Cherry's weren't very popular bitties- with their natural propensity for towards anxiety and fear, it was like taking in a difficult rescue dog. Not only that, but they were small- very small. Probably the smallest Sans bitties out there. If this one had been abused, you could only imagine how unstable he'd be.

Your house wasn’t large by any means, given that it was just you and tiny skeletons that lived there. The crate with the bitty was in the kitchen. You approached carefully.

“Hello?” you called. There was no response. You frowned and knelt down in front of the crate and peered inside.

He was curled up in the farthest corner of the crate, and he was shaking. It was too dark to see much of anything, but his eyes were wide and scared and staring you down.

“It’s alright, I won’t hurt you,” you said slowly, reaching forward and opening the squeaky metal door of the box. “Can you talk?”

Again, no reply. You didn’t know what kind of shape this bitty was in, but if it was anything like Max had described, you couldn’t afford to let him come out on his own.

“I have to take you out of the crate,” you explained quietly. “I have to make sure you’re okay, then we can get you settled in.”

He stared out at you, completely silent. You gave him a soft, reassuring smile from your knees.

“I won’t hurt you, okay? I just need to pick you up to take you out of the crate, if you want me to put you down just tell me, okay?”

The little Cherry looked absolutely terrified.

You reached in, expecting a bite or a sting of magic, but there was nothing. The bitty had on a rough, tattered little red jacket with holes in it. What visible bone you could see was bruised and hurt. He was small and fragile, and he didn’t look healthy. You gently wrapped your hand around his ribs and nudged him out of the crate. Something felt wrong, but you couldn’t place it.

He didn’t make a single noise. You drew him out of the opening, cooing little reassurances, but your voice got stuck in your throat when you saw him clearly for the first time.

His arm was gone. You saw it in the way the jacket hung limp, and you had to swallow, but you kept your poker face. You’d never had a bitty with a missing arm before, but you could deal with it.

“See? It’s alright. I know you’re scared, but I’m here to help you. I wish I could let you sleep, but I’ve gotta make sure you’re okay first. I’ll get you something good to eat, and then you can take a rest, okay?”

Nothing.

You picked him up, supporting him with both of your hands now, and took him over to the kitchen counter. You kept all of your tiny medical stuff tucked away in the corner. A towel was already laid down, and you set the small, shaking bitty on the soft surface.

He really was tiny. He clung to your hand with big red tears gathered in the corners of his sockets. His black eyes were wide as he stared at you, but he didn’t open his mouth. It worried you that he didn’t fight, or even struggle, but you were happy for it at the moment.

“I have to undress you to look for any injuries. Are you okay with that?”

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t respond. His mouth never opened.

You went ahead and did it, and he didn’t fight you. He let you slip his arm out of the jacket and you were greeted with a spiderweb of cracks on his radius and ulna. Things had been carved into it, but the poor little thing was too dirty for you to see what. When you took off his shirt, you were greeted with a similar sight on his ribs. Some were missing chips and pieces, one was missing about a centimeter in the middle. You’d never seen such awful, awful scars on a bitty. Your heart was squeezing in sympathy, but you kept yourself calm for his sake.

“I’ll leave your pants on, we can look at your legs another time,” you said, because he was starting to shake something awful and you didn’t want to send him into a full-blown panic attack. "You're doing really well."

You tried not to look at the splintered, shattered bone of his humerus. It looked like somebody has taken a hammer to it. You’d have to put him under to try and clean up the break, but it looked old, but you didn't want to let it go.

“I’m going to clean your arm, okay?”

His eyes went wide and he tried to scramble away from you. You reached out and used your palm to stop him from scooting off of the towel.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. It’s alright, calm down,” you said quietly. You rubbed his shaking little back. “Deep breaths. If we leave it go for too much longer, it’ll get infected, and that’ll hurt even worse. I won't do it until you're ready, okay? I'm not going to force you to do anything you don't want to do.”

He shook his head and you heard a muffled noise.

“You can talk to me, it’s okay,” you said, but he just shook his head faster, his only hand clamped onto one of your fingers. It sounded like he had a gag in. Like he-

You sucked in a breath. The poor thing turned and pressed his face into your palm, but he didn’t struggle. He was crying.

“Shh… hey, hey now,” you said, “it’s okay. Shh, I’m not going to make you do anything, okay? You’re safe. Deep breaths.”

He looked up at you before he took a finger and pointed to his mouth.

You bent down and looked. He flinched from the sudden closeness of your face, but he didn’t move away. He closed his eyes.

You saw something along his teeth, something clear. You reached out a finger and touched it, and it was hard as a rock.

“Is… is that glue?” you asked softly, to confirm. He nodded as he tried to curl in on himself further. He began sobbing in earnest, as much as his clenched teeth let him.

Somebody had superglued his mouth shut.


	2. 2 o'clock In The Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so here's some more of this?? you guys are so nice and lovely with your comments of "what the fuck?? this is fucked up why would you think of this?" so i just had to write more. so here's more. i love writin hurt/comfort fics so this is like 100% self indulgent garbage
> 
> that, and the idea of a small person is... well, it's kind of curious to think about how different you could fuck up somebody that small. plus humans suck and i hate most of them, like i watched a video of a guy throwing a dog off a roof once? people are disgusting? they would definitely do this if bitties were real. anyways heres this

 

It took hours to carefully scrape the glue off of him, alternating between a toothpick and a cotton swab soaked in nail polish remover. You were careful, and you were as gentle as you possibly could be, but the poor thing didn’t seem to care what you did. The smell was enough to give you a headache, even when you turned the vent fan on and opened a window, you could only imagine how it must’ve smelled to the poor bitty. When had be eaten last? Who would do something like this?

Finally, at almost two in the morning, after nearly five hours of work, he was able to pry his mouth open. He sucked in air like somebody just saved from the deep end of a pool. He was shaking, and there was still residue on his teeth and inside of his jaw, but he looked at you with wide, terrified eyes.

“Th… thank you,” he whimpered, so quiet you could barely hear.

“You’re welcome. I’m so sorry,” you said. You were so tired, and you could only imagine how he must have felt, but you got the things ready to clean his head.

“What should I call you?” you asked, giving him a tired smile. He was curled up on the towel, but you kept a palm down for him to lean into.

“...Red,” he whispered.

“I have to clean your arm up, Red,” you explained, so very tired. “We can leave the rest of it until tomorrow, but if it gets infected it’ll hurt a lot worse than it already does.”

He didn’t answer. His jaw was set. You gave him a reassuring pat before reaching up and gently slipping his little jacket off. It clearly hurt him, but you couldn’t let it get infected.

You looked at the wound. It was jagged and looked painful, so flushed with magic trying to heal him.

“D-Don’t…” he whined with his eyes shut tight.

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ll be as gentle as I can, tell me when you’re ready.”

It took him a couple minutes to calm his rapid breathing, but he nodded eventually.

He flinched when you cleaned it, making sure to disinfect it thoroughly. You weren't sure if a bandage would even help, given the nature of the wound, so you left it open. He didn’t complain, or try to move away, but he didn’t stop shaking the entire time. You spoke quietly to him, but he never answered.

When it was done, you offered him something to eat. He accepted, and five minutes later you sat him gently on the couch with an apple slice gripped in his hand. He ate like he hadn’t in weeks. All things considered, that might have been the truth.

“Do you know where you are?” you asked him as he finished his meal. You’d give him more, but you didn’t want him to get sick.

He shook his head. He really wasn’t much for conversation. That worried you, because even if Cherries were usually anxious, they were usually more talkative than this.

You told him your name. “My job is to make sure you get better. I’ve taken care of a lot of bitties before, but I’ve never had a Cherry.” You gave him a little smile. “I can tell you more tomorrow, I think it’s for a quick bath and then bed, though.”

He shrunk away when you moved to pick him up, but you did so with gentle, steady hands. You brought him close to your chest and he clung on. His single hand was twisted in your shirt.

“I’m not going to drop you, Red,” you said quietly, holding him close to your chest, making sure to balance him so that the side with the missing arm was secure. “Whatever your last caretaker did to you, it won’t happen here. You’re safe.”

He clung to you even tighter. You pressed him right to you, careful not to put too much pressure on his ribs.

You pulled out a shallow container as you made it to the bathroom. You set Red down gently on the counter, making sure he had his footing before you released him. He eyed the tub with growing fear.

You turned on the hot water and waited for it to warm up. He flinched at the sound of water running, but he didn’t move.

You filled the little tub about two inches full of water and added some bubble soap. You turned to Red only to find him pressed against the wall of the sink, holding onto his pants and looking away.

You prayed to any god that would listen that he wasn’t sexually abused as well.

“You can leave them on,” you said. “I’ve got a whole bunch of clothes you can wear, just take them off once you get in and I’ll wash them for you.”

He didn’t move or speak. You reached over, slowly, and put your hand under him so you could lift him up and into the warm, soapy water.

He clung to your hand when you went to put him in, single arm grasping frantically as his feet touched the water.

“N-No- no-” he cried as he curled himself up so he wouldn’t get wet. “Please-”

He needed a bath so bad, but you just couldn’t do it.

“Okay, okay, that’s okay,” you said, setting him instead beside the small amount of water. “That was a good try, you don’t have to go in, though. How about I use a cloth and clean you up, would that be better?”

He nodded, his stump of an arm doing its best to hang onto your hand.

You went about wiping him down as best as you could. You used a cotton ball for most of it and did your best to be gentle. When he hissed, you withdrew and waited until he gave you the go-ahead. You had a very awful feeling that he didn’t want you anywhere near him, but he was too afraid to deny you his space.

There were a few words meticulously carved into his humerus and radius, and you knew that he couldn’t have done it himself. As you cleaned off the dirt and grime the first you uncovered was ‘worthless.’ You bit back an angry breath, because Red might think it was directed at him. You worked on his arm first, and then his ribs. He hardly opened his eyes during the whole process and his breathing was shallow, but as the minutes wore on he seemed to realize you weren’t going to hurt him.

On one of his bottom ribs, the word ‘idiot’ was carved into his bone. He had a pretty barrel-shaped chest, but there was no way he couldn’t see the awful things somebody had written in him. You cleaned, keeping your face as calm as you could, but somebody had done this to the poor, poor little thing. Somebody had carved insults into his bones, broken his arm- you had to stop thinking about it. It hurt too much.

The worst, though, was one he couldn’t see. It was carved into his back, across his ribs. Animal, so deeply drawn that it made you worry about how sturdy the ribs could be.

Somebody had done this to him. Some sick fuck had done this to him- this wasn’t abuse, this was _torture._ Dehumanizing, agonizing torture. You had to push the thoughts away before they consumed you.

When you went to clean what little remained of his left arm, he shrunk away and whined. You withdrew immediately.

“Does it hurt?” you asked.

He refused to look at you. He nodded his head.

“Do you know how long ago this happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” he said, so soft and fragile.

“That’s okay. I have to clean it, to make sure it isn’t infected, but I’ll be gentle. I can give you something for the pain before we go to sleep.”

He didn’t say anything, but as you moved your hand down he allowed you to slip two fingers underneath his arm stump to get a better angle. He was shaking.

You worked fast, cleaning only what needed to be cleaned. The wound wasn’t infected, but it looked like it had been reopened several times. The bone was flooded with red magic. When you touched the colorful parts, Red hissed and covered his mouth with his other hand.

“Sorry- I’m sorry. We can deal with that when you’re feeling a little better, alright? I won’t touch it again.”

He was a bitty of few words.

You gave him a tiny little portion of a pain reliever, something generic to ease the soreness in his bones and help him sleep. He was nervous and hesitant to take the medicine, but after you explained what it was and what it did and took some yourself, he was much more receptive.

You took him back to your bedroom, where a lot of the more domestic things were located.

You sat him down on the raised platform in the corner of the room. A variety of small boxes were arranged on it, all converted into living spaces for bitties. You pointed him towards the biggest one, since no other bitties were with you.

“Sometimes I get more than one bitty at a time,” you explained. “You can have the big one, since it's just you,” you said. He shuffled nervously, but nodded.

You opened the drawer on the bottom of the little raised area and found the smallest bitty clothes you had. You found a pair of sweatpants that would fit him, a tank top, and thin black jacket. You went to hand the clothes to him before you remembered he only had one arm.

“Here,” you said, handing him only the pants. “You can go in there and change, I’ll hand the rest to you through the door.”

He did as he was told. In only a few minutes, he was dressed in clean clothes, looking infinitely better than he had when he’d arrived. He was so small... even other Cherry bitties weren't usually this small. Maybe he'd grow with proper care- you hoped so. The poor little dude.

“Do you want to go to bed?” you offered softly.

He hugged himself with his single arm and kept his head down. This was going to be a process, but your heart hurt for the little guy.

“There’s a bed in there,” you said, pointing to the biggest little bitty apartment. “If you’re tired, you’re more than welcome to go to sleep. There’s water and some snacks, help yourself to anything inside. If you need anything, there’s a button by the inside of the door,” you said, pointing to the door specifically. “Just press it and it’ll chime. Does that sound like a plan?”

  
He nodded obediently. His sockets had dark teal rings underneath them, and the right side of his face had a deep, colorful bruise on the zygomatic bone.

“Okay. If you get scared or feel sick, just ring the bell and I’ll come help you, alright, Red?”

Another meaningless nod.

You stood up. “Alright. Just relax, okay? You’re here to get better, I’m not going to hurt you. You’re safe.”

You knew he didn’t believe a word.

 


	3. A Little Bit of Heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's more of this mess

You were woken at four in the morning by a small scream.

You sat up, but it cut off as soon as you woke and recognized the noise for what it was. It came from Red's little home.

You could hear ragged panting coming from the corner of the room. Nightmares were very common, so you were used to being woken up by scared bitties in the middle of the night.

“Red?” you called softly. The crying was stifled as you stood and called his name.

“Red, are you okay in there?” you asked, making your way over to where he was.

He didn’t answer you. You took a knee beside the platform and let out a breath.

“Red?”

He appeared in the doorway. His eyes were wide and without pupils and his body was nearly convulsing. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, or maybe fifteen.

“Red,” you said quietly.

“I-I-I’m sorry,” he whined. He held the shoulder of his missing arm and stared idly into space.

“Shh, deep breaths,” you said. His whole body was racked with sobs and ragged panting. “Deep breaths, Red, you’re okay. Shh. It was a nightmare, it’s not real.”

“I-I’m s-” he bit off the word as he was overcome with a shuddering breath. “I’m s-sorry.”

“You’re okay, deep breaths,” you repeated. “Look at me, Red.”

He obeyed immediately. It was sickening to watch- you knew somebody had trained him to do this. Somebody had trained him like a dog.

His eyes met yours.

“Breath in,” you said, and he did it. “You’re safe. You’re right here, I’m not gonna let anybody hurt you. Breath out.”

He looked at you the whole time. His body stilled just a little bit.

“In, out, nice and deep,” you said calmly. “Think about the things you can see right now- me, my bed, the walls-” his eyes drifted to the things you named. “You’re okay. Just breathe, okay?”

He obeyed. You kept a safe distance between the two of you, and after a few minutes of his heavy breathing, he finally began to calm down. When his eyes found their focus and made it to your face, he looked terrified.

You gave him a smile. “There you go, Red, see? It was just a nightmare. You’re fine.”

“Can…” his voice, although surprisingly deep for something so small, was ragged and quiet. “Can I ask you a question, master?”

You nodded. You knew better than to make him question himself- when he was more emotionally stable, you’d tackle the whole ‘master’ ordeal.

“Of course, you’re allowed to talk to me anytime you want to,” you said. He lowered his eyes.

“When… are you going to… send me away?” He flinched as though waiting for punishment.

You frowned and sat down beside his little bitty house. You offered him your hand, and he immediately went to it and curled up against the warmth of your palm.

“I’m not going to send you anywhere unless you want to leave,” you said, using your thumb to rub his back. “You can stay here, with me, as long as you’d like to.”

His courage dissipated. The adrenaline from his dream had worn off, and fear had crept back in. He rested against your hand, so sad and sullen, the fingers on his single hand idly moving against your skin. You smiled.

“Do you think you’ll be able to sleep again?”

His little eyes found yours, his square jaw set in a deep frown. There were still remnants of the glue on him, and you’d have to get them off as soon as you could. He slowly shook his head, making himself small but never leaving the warmth of your hand.

“It’s a little early, but we can start the day and take a nap later if you get tired,” you said. You moved to pick him up but waited for him to scoot into your palm before you lifted him. He clung tight with his one arm, but you had him against your chest in only a second. “How about I show you around the house, then we can get you something to eat, okay?”

He nodded his head against your shirt.

 

 

The day was spent in a quiet monotony. He devoured the chicken nuggets you offered him and was very still and patient as you carefully removed the remainder of the super glue from his face and teeth. The fear never left his eyes, but as you toted him from counter to counter he seemed to realize that you weren’t going to drop him, and he relaxed his death grip on you.

He was desperate for warmth and contact, but afraid to seek it. When you sat him down on the makeshift bitty couch on the table and cupped your hand against his tiny little frame, he practically melted into it. You made some calls, first to Max, to report Red's status, and then to the vet.

You hated calling it a vet. Bitties weren’t pets, you’d met dozens of them who were smarter than most of the humans you interacted with on a daily basis. Red watched you with big eyes while you talked, but after a while he balled himself up and snuggled his head against your fingers. It was adorable.

“When’s the soonest you can get me in?” you asked the receptionist. “I’ve got a bitty with a pretty serious break that needs cleaned up. It isn’t life threatening, but it’s hurting him.”

The woman on the other end of the line babbled for a moment as she checked the schedule. You used your thumb to rub Red’s back and gave him a reassuring smile. He stared up at you but didn’t return it.

Two days was the earliest she could get you in, and that was perfect. Red seemed confused and scared about the idea of getting a check up.

“It’s alright,” you explained gently. “They’re just going to clean up your arm so it doesn’t hurt anymore. It won’t hurt- they’ll put you under.”

His body froze. You closed your mouth and rubbed his back, waiting to see what he was scared of now. Your heart hurt for the little guy.

“Water?”

You blinked. “What? It’s nothing like that, it means they’ll give you an anesthetic. It’ll be like you’re sleeping, they’ll clean up your arm, you won’t feel a thing. You’ll only be out for a couple of hours at most, and when you wake up we can come home.”

It took him a moment to relax, but eventually he nodded.

“I’ll be there the whole time, so don’t worry.”

Another nod. You gave him a sad smile- bitties were usually much more talkative. Even the abused ones you’d met were still receptive to conversation- Red just seemed… hollow. You glanced at the clock on the oven and saw that it was almost seven.

“Are you tired? I’ve got some things to get done on the computer, but you could nap if you wanted. I know you didn’t sleep well.”

Red nodded. “Yes, master.”

“You don’t have to call me that,” you said as you picked him up and held him against you. He rested his head on your shirt.

“But… what else would I call you?”

“Well… lots of bitties called me lots of different things,” you said in your best attempt to keep the atmosphere from getting dark. “An Edgey I had liked to call me ‘Boss’ while he was here, and he still does when he visits. Or you could call me mom, human, whatever you want to.”

“Why not master?”

You frowned. You made your way through the kitchen, to the couch, and sat Red down in your lap. He leaned against your stomach, careful of his stump.

“Well… I’m not your master, Red,” you said. “I know the last man you lived with- he was very mean to you.” The bitty recoiled, and you put your hand against him. It seemed to calm him down. “But… that’s not how it’s supposed to be. My job is to take care of you and keep you safe and happy, for as long as you need me to. If that’s a month, or forever, that’s fine. But I’m not your owner, and you aren’t my pet. Does that make sense?”

“Then what am I?” he asked from your lap. His voice wavered.

“You’re a person,” you said, “you’re just a small person. What happened to you has happened to humans, too. The man who hurt you just took advantage of how small you are.”

“Is he…” Red stopped as you felt a shiver run through him. “Is he coming back?”

“No. Never,” you said, rubbing his spine. “He’s in jail, and once they know what he did to you, he’s going to stay there for a long time.”

“Will I get in trouble?” His voice was so, so small and scared.

“No, you’re safe. Nobody is going to hurt you again. If they try, I’ll be here to stop them.”

Red was quiet. His courage to speak seemed to come in small spurts, but it had fizzled out again. You continued to gently rub his back for a while.

“I’ve got some work to do, how about you try and sleep for a little bit, okay?”

He nodded.

“Do you want me to bring the little couch in, or would you rather sleep on my lap?”

“I-is it okay if I… sleep here?” he asked.

“Yup, that sounds perfect,” you said, booping him gently on the skull and rolling over your little laptop stand. “Let me know if you need anything, alright?”

He nodded.

He was asleep on your thigh in minutes.


	4. I Feel as if I'm Wasted

Red didn’t do a lot of talking between his arrival and the day you left for his appointment. The night before you coaxed him out of his pants and got a good look at his legs. They weren’t as bad as his upper body, but his behavior made you fear the worst. He had a panic attack when you cleaned his femurs. It took a lot of reassurance that you weren’t going to touch him anywhere he wasn’t comfortable with.

You got his lunch ready as he sat on the countertop. He’d been sleeping a lot, which you were glad for. You’d offered to wrap bandages around the words carved into his bones, so he couldn’t see them anymore, and he’d accepted readily. He didn’t like to talk about the words, but you couldn’t blame him. With time and love, they would hopefully fill in.

“Are you ready for your check up?” you asked as you cut up a strip of bacon into bitty-sized pieces. You looked over your shoulder to see Red nod. You presented him with the little dish of bacon and he accepted with a nod of thanks.

“We’ll have to leave in about an hour,” you said. “Take your time eating that, I don’t want you to get sick.”

Another nod as he began devouring his breakfast.

You got online while he ate, sitting close enough to him at the counter that he could lean on your arm. You had to fill out reports. Physical abuse was one thing. You would wait until after the appointment to bring up the topic of sexual abuse.

“What are you doing?” he asked. You blinked and looked down at him, unaware that he’d finished eating. He blushed and looked away immediately as though ashamed of speaking.

“I’m just filling out some documents. I have to tell the people who do the legal work how you’re doing, so they can make sure your last caretaker gets punished for what he did.”

Red nodded. You took a couple seconds to finish the page before you brought a hand down and cupped it against him.

“Is something wrong?”

Red held one of your fingers and looked down at the countertop.

“I… I’m scared,” he said, hardly above a whisper.

“Of what?” you asked, nervous, but trying to be as gentle as possible.

“He s… said the reason he…” Red stopped to suck in a breath, and you rubbed his back. “Said he hurt me… because I wasn’t right. What i-if the check-up people… what if they think I’m not right, too?”

You could hardly bare it, but you did. You rubbed his back and drew him closer to you. He clung to your shirt with one hand and whimpered.

“Shh… I’ve got you, Red,” you said. “There’s nothing wrong with you- even if there was, nobody would hurt you because of it. The man who hurt you was wrong- not you.”

“B-But my arm-” he cried.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re okay even if you only have one arm- would you think any less of me if I only had one arm?”

Red sucked in a breath and shook his head immediately. “N-no- I-I’m sorry for saying that-”

You shushed him and cursed yourself. “You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s okay,” you said softly, internally yelling at your mistake. “All I’m saying is that… nobody is going to hurt you, alright? If they try, I’ll be right here to protect you. You don’t deserve to be hurt, Red.”

He was still shaking, so damn terrified of offending you in any way. You picked him up and held him close, cooing reassurances. He didn’t seem ready to speak again, but that was fine.

“Shh, just relax, Red,” you said quietly. “You’re fine. Deep breaths. I’m not upset.”

He nodded silently into your shirt. You let out a soft breath and tucked him into the crook of your arm, right against your chest. You used your other to continue your work.

A few minutes passed before you noticed him shuddering. You’d managed to finish the report with your slow, one-handed typing, so you brought up your other hand to hold his back.

“I-I’m sorry,” he whimpered. You ran your thumb along his spine.

“Everything’s fine,” you said. “You’re fine. I promise.”

 

Red had calmed down again by the time the two of you left to see the vet. You drove carefully, with Red tucked into the front pocket of your shirt. They didn’t make seats for bitties, at least none that you knew of, so you got some angry honks when you didn’t move past 40 the whole way there.

Red was clearly nervous about the check-up, but you kept him close the whole time. The receptionist gave him a warm smile as you sat in the waiting room. This wasn’t an emergency clinic, and it was still quite early, so not many others were around. You were glad for that, and so was your bitty.

“You doing okay?” you asked him quietly. You’d been waiting for about five minutes and he was shaking in your arms.

“Y-Yes, mas-” he bit down on the word and went silent again.

He continued to shake during his check-in and while you waited for the vet. As promised, you stayed with him the entire time, and he clung to you like a lifeline.   

He did well, all things considered, until they laid him down and propped up his arm so they could clean up the break. He began hyperventilating. You were positioned on his other side, and with a glance for permission you reached down and ran a thumb over his skull.

“Shh, it’s okay, Red,” you cooed. “They’re just going to clean up your arm so it isn’t all jagged anymore. You’ll be fine.”

He stared up at you with enormous, pleading eyes. The vet and the assistant watched you nervously. Bitties didn’t often need medical treatment like this, and with the controversy surrounding their standings as sentient beings, it was a gray area. You looked at them.

“Is it alright if I hold his hand?” you asked.

“Of course,” the vet said immediately. You did so as they brought a tiny tube down close to his mouth.

“N-No- no please-” he moaned, turning his head away and shutting his eyes tight. He began to struggle. “Please don’t- please-”

The vet withdrew as he began to sob. You gave her a short, apologetic look before you crouched down and allowed Red to cower against your palm.

“It won’t hurt, Red,” you said calmly. “It's just anesthetic. It’ll make you sleepy so you can’t feel your arm.”

He grabbed frantically at your fingers. “Please don’t- d-don’t let them touch me-” he cried, and your heart twisted. “I’ve been good- I’ve been good- don’t make me d-do it-”

You froze. Red sobbed into your fingers and you scooped him up. You turned to the vet.

“I’m so sorry. Can you give us a minute, please?” you asked. She nodded immediately, tears pricking her eyes. You could hardly blame her. They left without protest and you held Red against your chest.

“I-I’m sorry- I’m sorry-” he bawled.

“Shh, it’s okay, you haven’t done anything wrong,” you said. His hand twisted in your shirt. You felt it get wet where his face was pressed into it. “But, Red… they aren’t going to hurt you. I promised I wouldn’t let them hurt you.”

He shuddered. Your heart was sinking by the minute, because you knew damn well what he was afraid of. You waited until his rapid breathing calmed before you spoke up again.

“Red. Did your last caretaker make you do things you didn’t want to?” you asked softly. “Sexual things?”

Red gasped and pressed himself even further into you. He nodded feverishly against your shirt.

“Did he give you things that made you feel light-headed, or dizzy, or really fuzzy?”

He was breathing too fast, and sobbing too hard. You cradled him and shushed him gently.

“I’ve got you,” you said with an aching chest. “Shh… shh, you’re okay. Deep breaths. Just breathe, okay?”

“I-I-I’m so-rry-” he sobbed, but you quieted him.

“None of it is your fault, Red,” you said quickly. “What he did to you isn’t your fault. But that is _never_ going to happen again- okay? I’ll never let that happen again. These people just want to help- they want to fix your arm so you can feel better as soon as possible. They aren’t like him. They don’t want you to hurt.”

It took a while, and a lot of reassurance, but Red calmed down enough to let them operate on his arm. While he was out, you sat in a chair nearby and let your mind go to dark, dark places.

The man who had done this was going to pay.


	5. We Just Carried On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a while haha, sorry about that  
> (i've been on a video game binge)

They let you take him home while he was still unconscious. The vet bandaged his arm and gave you prescription painkillers for him. She looked so haunted by Red’s actions. A vet probably didn’t have much experience with things that could speak. You didn’t blame her one bit. If anything, it helped- you asked if she would be willing to testify towards Red’s abuse, and she agreed wholeheartedly.

You were watching TV when he began to stir again. He looked so very small on your lap, and smaller still when he came to and curled up against you without a word.

You had to steady yourself before you could speak. You knew you had to- and now it was fresh, you could get it done with all at once.

“Red? How do you feel?”

“Okay,” he said softly. He looked up at you and held up his good arm- your heart melted. You picked him up and held him against your chest. He shuffled his stump and looked at the bandages.

“The doctor said to leave those on for about a week, and then it should be alright to take them off,” you said down to him.

He nodded. His eyes were tired and scared, but he curled against you and you ran a thumb gently along his spine.

“Did… did they say anything? About me?” he asked.

“Only that you were the handsomest little skeleton they’d ever seen,” you said. Red jerked his head up to look at you before a brilliant crimson blush spread across his face and he buried it back into the fabric.

You really wanted it to stay like that, but you stood and took him to the table. There was a small couch there, just for him to sit on. You sat him then took a seat yourself. He looked nervous as he shuffled his feet and tried not to meet your eyes.

“Red, I have to ask some questions about what your last caretaker did to you,” you said. His eyes darkened, and you reached out to reassure him.

“You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. We’ll start with yes and no questions, okay?”

He held onto you and looked very deep into your eyes. A few moments of silence passed before he relaxed and nodded.

“Was he the one who took your arm?”

Red nodded. His face was almost hollow.

“Did he carve those words into your bones?”

Another small, fragile nod.

 

Red had been living with the man for almost four years. Most of his time had been spent alone, afraid, and in the dark, where he’d taken care of himself and lived off of meager, near-rotten scraps of meat and junk food. The man- who Red only knew as his ‘Master’- hadn’t been so bad at first. Negligent and uncaring, but as the weeks trudged on and months turned to years he’d begun taking his anger out on the bitty. The carvings and the arm had all happened less than a year ago, he told you.

He laid against your chest with wide, confused eyes. You rubbed his skull and let him rest as he dug through his mind for other answers. He was shaking.

From what you now understood, it had only been drugs at first. He’d drug Red up and watch him stumble and panic as the effects took over and the poor bitty didn’t know what was happening. You doubted you would ever know the specifics, and you were somewhat glad for that, but the man had started sexually abusing him fairly late into his stay. Red had recounted some of the experiences with cold, haunted eyes. His poor, battered bones rattled against you. It was done, you’d learned everything you’d needed to, but he was so afraid.

You were still trying to comprehend how any of this could have happened. Humans were horrible, you’d always known that, but this… this was different. You stared off at nothing in particular as you tried to calm Red down. You cooed mindless words to him, telling him it was over now, it’d be alright.

“I-I thought I’d die there,” he whispered wetly into your shirt. “I didn’t… I don’t know what to do… I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” you said. “Being scared means you’re alive. But you’re safe now.”

“What if- what if my new master doesn’t like me?” he whimpered. “I want to stay with you, b-but I… I know I… can’t. What if the new human hates me? What if they- they-”

“Do you want to stay here?” you asked, pulling him away for a second to look at him.

He shied away, hunching his shoulders and making himself small. “I-I… I want to…”

“Then you can.”

His head shot up to look at you in surprise, and you couldn’t help but smile as he put him close to you once again.

“Really? I can- I can stay here? With you?”

“Of course you can,” you said as you looked down at his little face. You held him by the curve of his spine, his knees drawn up and pressing softly into your flesh.

“You don’t mind? You don’t want me to leave?” he went on as tears gathered in his sockets. Your heart twisted.

“I want you to stay here,” you said. “So as long as you want to stay, you can.”

You watched the emotions flash through his eyes before his tears fell and he wrapped his arms around you as much as he could, his stump outstretched and his little soul glowing with soft crimson magic.

“Thank you- th-thank you-” he cried. “I’ll be good- I won’t cry, or wake you up, I’ll- I’ll- thank you s-so much-” he bawled. You let out a soft breath and coddled him to your chest as he mumbled and hugged you with all he was worth.


	6. Happy Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter, thanks for reading!
> 
> (In case you didn't realize, the title/chapter titles were all lyrics from the song Happy Ending by MIKA, because I'm a shit like that hehe)

Things went well. Red got better everyday, and once the vet had attested to his condition both mentally and physically, his “master” had gotten forty years on good behavior. He hadn’t even tried to plead innocent. You were glad you’d never meet him and that he’d gotten what he’d deserved, although you would have liked to see him put away for life.

“Mama?”

You looked up from your computer screen, busy talking to a client about their bitty’s behavior, and saw Red on the floor by your feet. You’d custom ordered ladders after he'd had insisted he could climb them, but he still preferred not to. You smiled, sighed, and reached down to lift him up.

“It’s early for you to be up, Red. Everything okay?”

“Mm…” he murmured. You were used to his poor communication skills.

“Nightmare?”

He nodded against your shirt.

“You wanna sleep on my lap for a while longer?”

“M’not real tired…” he said softly.

“TV?”

He nodded thoughtfully before he looked up at you with a hopeful face.

“Could… could we watch cartoons?”

You smiled and gave him a very gentle finger noogie. “Of course.”

He fell asleep about ten minutes into the episode. You smiled down at him and his tiny little frame. His wounds were healing- he looked less haunted every passing day. You could hear his soft, gentle breathing from your lap and it made you smile idly down at your new charge. You picked up the bandana you kept on the coffee table for just such occasions and covered him up in it.

He stirred in his sleep and looked at you with tired, half lidded eyes.

"I love you, mama," he said softly.

"I love you too, Red," you said. A brief, hesitant smile made its way to his face before he dozed off again, safe and warm and content.

It had taken a while, and you still had your worries, but he’d be okay.


End file.
